


In which Moloch von Zinzer learns something icky

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: blundering onward [7]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Consider Yourself Forewarned, Ficlet, Gen, I know that mostly means Challenge Accepted around these parts, Post-Canon, implied gore and discussion of eye gouging, part of the series but not cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 23:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: Some days "I hate this job" doesn't even begin to cover it.





	In which Moloch von Zinzer learns something icky

Moloch von Zinzer preferred to get his work done with as little Sparky interference as possible, thank you very much. He liked being productive. He liked making sure everything ran smoothly, checking up on necessary tasks, and keeping the aggravations of daily life from driving the Heterodyne to smite a village. He did not like walking into a lab just after dawn and finding it already occupied.

Tarvek Sturmvoraus glanced at him, nodded, and then continued corking a series of tiny vials. Nope, not suspicious at all.

Moloch edged along the wall, trying to avoid attracting attention. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Lady Heterodyne’s beaus. He just figured that their company was about as safe as having a picnic on Tiny Monster Island. Probably just about as unpredictable, too.

“As the Lady Heterodyne’s Chief Minion,” Sturmvoraus said, and Moloch almost dropped the box of glass pipettes he had just picked up. “Have you given any thought to learning self defense?”

Why, why, WHY did he have to engage in conversation?

“I’d like to remind you that I was in the military, sir.” Moloch hoped the remark sounded every bit as surly as he felt.

Sturmvoraus waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. “The army teaches weapons and brute force. There’s no finesse to it.” The vials had disappeared, probably into his pockets. So reassuring.

Moloch moved the pipettes from the countertop to their proper place in a cupboard. “I suppose you think I need finesse?”

“Hitting people with heavy objects certainly has its place, but there comes a time it’s just more practical to know the best way to remove an eye.”

“An EYE?!” Moloch repeated. “No. No, I certainly do NOT need to know…” He stared in horror as Sturmvoraus rose to his feet. Please leave. Please.

“It’s easy.”

Oh, for f—

The Spark smiled as he prowled nearer. “The effort to efficacy ratio is unparalleled, especially in close quarters.”

“I’d like to continue using unnecessary amounts of effort.”

Sturmvoraus closed the distance between them all too quickly. “Nonsense.” He lifted his hand to the side of Moloch’s head. “All you have to do is grip your assailant like so. Press your thumb to the corner of the eye—here—squeeze inward and press your thumb toward your palm. A child can do it.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Moloch wailed. Then he realized what Sturmvoraus had said. A child CAN do it. Not COULD do it. Horror beat back the panic thundering in his veins. “You removed EYEBALLS when you were a CHILD?”

“Stopping real assassins was part of my education.”

That didn’t actually make Moloch feel any better. “I don’t need to stop any assassins.” Hopefully. Probably. Maybe.

“Even if you don’t, you need to know this and other low-power stopping techniques.” A fire that was more than just the Spark burned in Sturmvoraus’ eyes. “You need to be able to protect yourself from a Spark in full fugue state without doing too much damage.”

“What, you think I need to protect myself from you? Or Wulfenbach?” Probably Wulfenbach.

Shaking his head, Sturmvoraus gripped Moloch by the shoulders, cutting his chances of escape to zero. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re going to be here when young HETERODYNES Break Through.”

This guy was willing to sacrifice the eyes of his own children? And that wouldn’t be TOO MUCH damage? Moloch shuddered. What would be too much? “And you think threatening a thumb to the eyeball will stop them from killing me? What if it doesn’t?”

“An eye is a small price to pay for sanity.”

Sanity. Sure, that would happen around here. “You think killing me would break a hypothetical Spark kid’s sanity?” This entire conversation defied sanity. It laughed at sanity, laughed like the mad, broken Castle of his nightmares…

“I’d rather not find out,” Sturmvoraus said, some of the fire fading from his eyes. Behind it Moloch glimpsed a faint shadow of worry. What really drove this man?

“Great. Let’s not find out. And I’m not gouging out any eyeballs, no matter how good an idea you think it is.”

“Of course you won’t.” Sturmvoraus gave him a condescending pat on the shoulder. “But now you know how. Just in case.”

Eyes narrowed, Moloch stared what he hoped was a hard stare at the creepy Spark. “You’re the best at acting normal, but you’re the most twisted of all of them, aren’t you?”

Tarvek Sturmvoraus laughed at him. Moloch froze, uncertain just how close to death he was. It sounded like a normal laugh, not a Madboy laugh, but with this one he found it safest to assume nothing.

When Sturmvoraus stopped laughing, Moloch gave him a sidelong look, one he found perfect for seeming defiant while searching for an escape route. “I could tell her.”

“You won’t, though.”

At that, Moloch bristled. “You think you know everything about everyone, don’t you?” Just like a Spark. Just like an aristocrat. This time, he meant it when he glared.

Sturmvoraus shrugged, but he took a step back. Moloch edged away from him. They stared at one another in silence for a minute.

“I’m not gouging out any eyeballs.”

Again Sturmvoraus laughed, and as he did, he seemed to relax a bit. Had he been tense before? Strange. Still chuckling, he clapped a hand on Moloch’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, von Zinzer. You really will be.” And then he was gone, brushing past Moloch and out the door.

Moloch counted three slow breaths before he said, “I suppose you like that one.”

“Who would have guessed that wet blanket Andronicus Valois would have so promising an heir?” Castle Heterodyne purred.

Moloch grimaced. “If that’s what you want to call it.” He glanced around the lab. Nothing else was out of place, and yet…

He paced around the lab bench Sturmvoraus had vacated. Locating the one drawer that always sticks closed, he pushed and pulled and jiggled it until he managed to coax it open. Within lay an assortment of old books. Journals, mostly, and the odd annotated history text. The first one out of the drawer had a cracked spine, and it fell open in his hand, spilling three pages onto the countertop. That crafty bastard was researching the family. The old Heterodynes. Well, no wonder something had him spooked.

Moloch refused to know details about the lives of the old Heterodynes, so he packed the books back into the drawer, taking great care to place them just as they had been before. As he replaced the dropped pages into the journal with the broken spine, however, he couldn’t help seeing an anecdote about Igneous, three minions, and an assortment of cheeses. Great. He would never look at gouda the same way. Exasperated, he slammed the drawer shut.

Sturmvoraus would know that someone had rummaged his stash. He would probably move the journals to a new location, and not use the drawer again for at least a month. And he wouldn’t say anything to Agatha, either. Not if he wanted to keep his secrets.

Moloch thought about what Sturmvoraus had said to him. He thought about Igneous and the cheese. He thought about a household full of little Heterodynes—probably at least three of them—and he shuddered.

“You know what?” he announced. “I quit. I’m retired. I’m leaving.”

Castle Heterodyne only laughed at him. It knew he didn’t quite mean it. Yet.


End file.
